


The Right Place

by LtLJ



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Character of Color, Episode Related, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-08
Updated: 2006-09-08
Packaged: 2017-10-02 14:39:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LtLJ/pseuds/LtLJ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Caught flat-footed, John couldn't react for a second. He had known that when Fred tried to rejoin a hive, the other Wraith might not accept him, might kill him for having changed too much. Maybe he should have considered how that applied to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Right Place

**Author's Note:**

> Missing scene at the end of the episode Common Ground.

"Are you still having odd cravings?" Beckett asked.

Sitting on an examination table in Atlantis' infirmary, John nodded. "Yeah." The cravings were odd because he wasn't hungry. He had made it through three MREs in the jumper between the Wraith planet where they had dropped off Fred and arriving in Atlantis, and even Ronon had been impressed. Since then, all he could think about was junk food. He told Beckett, "Mostly pizza."

Nobody looked worried except Teyla, who asked Rodney in a whisper, "What is that?" A sentence into his explanation, she smiled in relief.

"I believe that's because your body still thinks it has to replace lost mass," Beckett said, studying the notes on his PDA. "Don't worry about it. It should go away of its own accord once your system adjusts. Just try not to overeat."

John nodded again. So did everybody else. It was probably strange to be doing this with such a large audience. Elizabeth and Teyla had tried to get rid of everybody early on, but John had said it didn't matter, and it really didn't. They had watched most of it happen; they might as well watch this part too.

Beckett put the PDA down and reached for the medical scanner where it sat next to John's hand. Suddenly everybody got quiet. John glanced up, not realizing until then that he had jerked away, sliding a few inches down the table. Which was weird, because the only thing he had been thinking about was how much he wanted a bacon cheeseburger. Beckett just winced in sympathy, picked up the scanner, and went on with the examination.

John knew he was freaking out, because not long after Beckett had started the exam, he had touched John's arm and John had flinched away. Since then, Beckett had been very careful and even more gentle than usual. He made very sure not to startle John, holding up each instrument first and explaining what he was going to do with it. Considering that Beckett had done John's post-mission exams and physicals and surgeries and everything else for two years, it might seem unnecessary. Except it wasn't.

"The feeding mark," Beckett said finally.

John looked up. "Will it go away?"

"Not naturally, I don't think. But I can remove it. There's an Ancient surgical instrument for scar removal that should take it off quite easily. But..." Beckett shook his head a little, and looked uncomfortable. "I think, from what you told me, it might be intended as a sign for other Wraith. To warn them off. I know... but...it might save your life one day."

A sign for other Wraith. A sign of a Wraith worshipper, a pet. Elizabeth had the expression she got when she was trying not to wince. Rodney was going through a whole gamut of emotions, horrified to speculative to looping back to horrified. Ronon's expression was blank and neutral. Teyla looked like she was going to throw up right here.

The weird thing was, from the "brothers" comment, John was pretty certain Fred hadn't meant it that way. That he had been trying to do John a favor. But then years of captivity had made Fred into the most messed-up and overemotional Wraith John had ever come across. To the point where John wasn't sure leaving Fred on the Wraith planet was a good thing, even though Fred had seemed happy about it. He might be too different now, and the other Wraith might turn on him, the way they had turned on Michael.

But then Michael had been kind of a bastard, even for a Wraith. Maybe his hive-buddies had just been looking for an excuse to turn on him.

John realized Beckett was still waiting for his answer, and said, "Remove it."

Everybody looked relieved, including Beckett. He said, "Aye, then," and made an entry on his PDA. "We'll do that."

"Now?" John asked hopefully.

"Tomorrow," Beckett said, firm again. "You need some rest, first, and I need the rest of your tests to come back before I do anything."

Finally, Beckett released him to go back to his quarters, and John hopped off the table and found himself facing Elizabeth. He said, "I bet you want me to see Dr. Heightmeyer."

"You bet right." Elizabeth smiled, but she looked tired and strained, like she had been pushed to her limit and a little past it. "John--" She stopped, and John knew he had tensed up, like he might possibly bolt out of the room. She just lifted a brow and smiled again. "Get some rest."

"Right." John managed to smile back at her. He was still so torn between being so fucking relieved to see her, to see anybody, and not wanting to talk about any of it that he didn't know what to do, except get out of here.

Walking out of the medlab, he could tell Rodney and Teyla were back there having some sort of non-verbal communication thing with Elizabeth, possibly involving hand signals. He lengthened his stride a little.

Rodney and Teyla caught up with him at the transporter anyway. John stopped, one hand on the console. "What?"

"What do you mean, 'what?'" Rodney demanded.

"I'm fine." John's voice was suddenly so tight his vocal cords hurt. He couldn't do this right now. "I just want to get some rest."

"Are you certain?" Teyla asked, watching him sharply.

"Yeah, I'm okay." John thought he managed to make it sound halfway convincing.

"You don't look okay," Rodney persisted. "You look hysterical."

"I want to be hysterical alone, Rodney." He hit the destination on the console and the doors slid closed.

  
***

  
John lost track of time in the shower, searching his skin for any signs of the Iratus virus, even though Beckett had said his blood work was negative. It was something he hadn't had to do for a few months, so he was a little out of practice. Finally he managed to convince himself that mole really was just a mole, and stepped out. Then he stared at the feeding mark in the mirror, and remembered lying there in the dirt and dead leaves while Fred fed on all the Genii around him.

He wasn't sorry about the Genii. There was just no fucking telling how many people they had done this to, that Kolya had done this to, over the long years Fred had been locked up down there. The ultimate responsibility might have been Kolya's, but anybody with an ounce of self-respect would have fragged the bastard as soon as he realized what Kolya meant to do. Being fed on by Fred was just a long-delayed Karmic payback.

Speaking of which, John was going to find Kolya. And Kolya was going to die screaming.

He made himself move, toweling his hair off, pulling on a pair of boxers and a t-shirt, going through the motions of getting ready for bed. He didn't think he was going to get much sleep. He was still half-expecting to wake up as a desiccated corpse in the morning.

John peered at himself in the mirror. He had been the next best thing to dead, but still horribly alive and aware, wondering just when the hell it was going to be over. He had seen people get fed on once and die immediately, and yet here he was, and how fucking long was this going to take? From the third feeding on, he had admitted to himself that he wasn't going to live. But he had just wanted to get back to Atlantis so he could die there. Maybe that was selfish, to put the others through that after everything else, and he should have just been satisfied with doing it somewhere alone in the woods. But all he had been able to think about was getting home.

It was weird to be standing here, when the most he had been hoping for was a warm bed in the infirmary and lots of the good drugs while he finished checking out.

The figure in the mirror had dark smudges under his eyes, looked skinny and weirdly vulnerable, and...younger. John hadn't paid much attention to Rodney's comment about that -- traumatic situations often led Rodney to yell out the thing that everybody least wanted to hear at that moment, and John was used to that -- and he had always looked a little younger than his actual age. But now that he really looked... Okay, yeah. Fred, who couldn't find the stargate in broad moonlight, who probably couldn't find his ass with both hands, had overshot the mark by a few years.

"Great," John muttered sourly and wandered out of the bathroom.

Ronon was standing in the middle of his room.

John tossed the towel over the desk chair, staring at him blankly. "What's up?" He realized he hadn't locked the door. Maybe because he hadn't wanted to be locked in, even when he was the one who had control over whether the door opened or not. He had also left his headset on the desk, and in the shower he wouldn't have heard the city-wide comm. "Was there a--"

Ronon surged forward, grabbing John's shoulders.

Caught flat-footed, John couldn't react for a second. All he could think was that he had known Fred might be killed for having changed too much, when he tried to rejoin a hive; he hadn't considered how that applied to him. There was a scuffle, then Ronon seemed to realize that John had a forearm braced across his throat, and abruptly pulled back.

John shoved him away, sending them both staggering, and John stumbled back, knocking the desk chair over. John started to grab it, as the closest thing to a weapon on this side of the room. But Ronon was just standing there, staring at him. Breathing hard, John said, "What the hell are you doing?"

"I don't know. I didn't mean to do that." Ronon, bizarrely, looked more self-conscious than anything else, as if he had tripped and stepped on John in the messhall, rather than jumping him in his quarters. He shifted uncertainly. "I came to see if you were all right."

John stared at him. His heart was still pounding, the unused adrenaline trickling cold down his back. He didn't mean to say it aloud, but the words came out anyway. "I thought you were going to kill me."

Ronon's brows scrunched up. "Why?"

"Why do you think?" Ronon just stared at him, baffled, and John looked away. He really didn't want to answer the question, but there wasn't a way to avoid it now. He tapped his chest. "Because of this."

Ronon's eyes narrowed. "You didn't ask for that."

John said tightly, "I know that."

Ronon hesitated, still watching him carefully. "Is that why you wouldn't let anybody touch you? You thought we were going to kill you?"

"No. Just leave it the hell alone, okay? I don't want to talk about this." John turned away, picked up the chair and set it upright.

After a moment, he heard Ronon shift uncertainly. "Sorry."

John felt immediately guilty. "It's not your fault, Ronon." He leaned on the chair, rubbing his face. Yeah, he was freaking out. That he had thought Ronon was going to kill him because he-- _Hold it._ He thought back over the last few moments. He turned to stare incredulously at Ronon. "Did you kiss me?"

Ronon folded his arms and stared at the wall above John's head. "Yes."

_Okay, at least I'm not hallucinating._ John shook his head slowly. "So. This was about...sex?"

"I didn't know I was going to do that." Ronon was still talking stiffly to the wall, every line of his body conveying embarrassment. "Teyla said you wouldn't let her and McKay help you."

"I don't want any of you near me until Beckett takes this thing off." John stopped, pressing his lips together. He hadn't meant to say that, either.

Ronon focused on him. His voice a low growl, he said, "That mark means nothing."

John faced him, suddenly furious again. "You know, Ronon, I'm sorry my issues are bugging you, but you can just fuck the hell off--"

Ronon grabbed his shoulders and kissed him again. He had caught John with his mouth open in mid-word, so John got tongue this time. John shoved him hard in the chest and Ronon let him go. He felt even more stupid for panicking earlier; this was exactly the sort of awkward pass a guy who had been away from normal human contact for seven years, then shoved into a completely unfamiliar culture, would make. "Ronon, dammit. I'm not supposed to do this! Didn't you read the Goddamn regs at all?"

"Yes. I know not to tell anybody." Ronon shrugged. "The others said it didn't matter as much in the SGC, where they came from. That here it mattered even less."

"The others? The Marines?" John said incredulously. Ronon started to speak and John waved it off. "No, don't tell me." That was about all he needed tonight.

Ronon let his breath out. It was pretty obvious he was thinking "stupid rules." He said, "It doesn't matter with Teyla and McKay. It doesn't matter with me. Just because you were forced to celibacy--"

"I wasn't forced to--" John couldn't fucking believe this. "You didn't even look at the regs, did you?"

"No," Ronon admitted.

"Look, that's why we can't do this. I have enough trouble getting you to follow orders as it is." And John knew him saying that was the ultimate irony, and possibly on the level of a punishment from God.

"At first. But not anymore."

"Look--"

"That's not the reason." Ronon eyed him. "It's the mark."

John swore and walked away, facing the wall. "That's not it."

"Sheppard. You came for me on Sateda," Ronon said patiently. "But just now, you thought I was going to kill you. That doesn't make sense."

He was right, it didn't. And John had to admit that if Ronon had grabbed him suddenly any time before this, it probably wasn't the first conclusion he would have leapt to. John realized he was uneasily rubbing the feeding mark through his t-shirt, and snapped his hand down.

Ronon came up behind him, put his hands on John's waist. John's whole body tensed. Ronon said, "I thought we'd find you dead. I thought we were going there to bring your body back." There was something in his voice, something raw, that made John realize Ronon was almost as messed up about this as he was. Ronon had watched it all happen to John too, just like the others. Except that Ronon had once watched it all happen to everybody he knew, friends, lovers, family, neighbors. Ronon added, "Send me away because you don't want me. Not because of what that thing did to you."

John could feel Ronon's body heat through the thin cotton of his shirt and shorts. Saying John didn't want him would be a lie. He wanted to feel human again, in the most human way possible. And he knew that if he lost it again, Ronon could handle him, could understand, in a way the others might not be able to.

And he was getting the feeling that if he couldn't do this now, tonight, with the guy that he trusted to watch his back -- that he trusted to protect Rodney and Teyla, to protect all his people -- he wasn't going to be able to do it, period. With men, with women, with Ascendants, anybody.

He said, "I don't know if I can--"

Ronon didn't give him a chance to worry. He pushed John down on the bed, climbed on top of him, and tugged his shorts down. Ronon caught his wrist and John jerked free. He said, dead serious, "Don't hold my hands down." He couldn't play that way right now, maybe never again.

Ronon nodded, just as serious, and leaned down to nuzzle John's neck.

John thought at first it was never going to work, and it was all his fault. His skin felt chilled, his body stiff and awkward, and he was never going to get used to Ronon's beard. Then Ronon pressed John's legs apart with a knee, cupped and stroked him with one big warm hand, and suddenly it was easier to go with it.

When John's breathing was ragged, Ronon shifted down to nuzzle the scar on John's chest. John swore and tried to shove him off. Ronon refused to be shoved, but he moved on to better territory, that made John gasp in a breath and grab Ronon's shoulders.

Afterward, lying in a confused tangle of legs and hair, John felt a bubble of tension break inside him. _Home, alive,_ he thought, and it suddenly wasn't as hard to believe.

John prodded Ronon until he shifted off him with a sleepy grumble. He rolled out of bed, found his shorts and t-shirt on the floor and got them on, then climbed back in. He was asleep in moments.

  
***

  
John woke sluggishly, feeling bleary and unfocused, blinking at the early dawn light coming in through the windows. He didn't know why he was so hungry. _Steak, eggs. Donuts._ With his luck, it was probably oatmeal day in the messhall.

Memory hit him suddenly, with the force of a slap to the head. He shoved the blanket back and sat up, looking down at his hands, his arms. Not a desiccated corpse. He slumped, burying his face in his hands in relief.

Ronon was sitting cross-legged on the floor, fully dressed, watching John with an unsurprised "there he goes again" expression. He went back to paging through a magazine. _Oh yeah, had sex with Ronon,_ John remembered. Yesterday had been a very weird day. "What are you looking at?"

Ronon held it up. It was a battered copy of _Carve_, which had arrived in the _Daedalus_' last mail run. "I didn't know what that thing was," he explained, jerking his head up toward the surf board.

The door slid open suddenly and Rodney stamped in. He looked at John, then Ronon, and folded his arms. "Oh, this is fine. You said you wanted to be alone."

"I did." John crawled out of the bed. Medlab or messhall, he couldn't decide which he was more desperate to get to first. Whichever, he needed clothes.

"He thought I was going to kill him," Ronon said, looking at a picture of Half Moon Bay.

"What?" Rodney stared. "What, is he still hysterical?"

"What do you think?" John staggered into the bathroom. He showered and shaved rapidly. When he came out, he could see there must have been some kind of conversation, because Rodney looked more worried than pissed, Ronon was still looking at the magazine, and Teyla was sitting on the bed. She had a plate from the messhall, with three Athosian breadrolls, doughy things stuffed with goatmeat and cheese. She smiled. "It was oatmeal day, but I thought you would like this better."

"I thought Carson said not to feed him," Rodney objected. He checked his watch. "And I just called the medlab, the tests came back fine, and they're expecting you in five minutes for scar removal."

"He said not to overeat," John said, mouth full, already heading for the door. Medlab it was.

This time he didn't mind that they all followed him.

 

**end**


End file.
